Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - His Madness Was Silent Until the Night He Said Julie’s Name One Last Terrifying Time PART3 #6

Episode Date: August 19, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #supernaturalhorror #darkfinale #psychologicalterror #entityreveal #hauntedlove  In the shocking conclusion of this psychological horror trilogy, the full depth of his madness is exposed. Julie finally uncovers the devastating origin of his obsession—and the sinister entity whispering through the shadows. As past sins and supernatural forces collide, Julie must confront the horror face-to-face. But not everyone is meant to survive the truth. A terrifying finale filled with dread, revelation, and irreversible darkness.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, supernatural, psychologicalhorror, hauntedpast, finalconfrontation, obsession, entity, chillingending, darknessunleashed, disturbingtruth, mentalcollapse, horrorfiction, twistedlove, fear, emotionalterror

November 9, 2016, I've always thought that Thanksgiving was a very underrated holiday. I mean, you eat as much food as possible and then just watch football and take a nap. I called my mom and brother to see if they had plans for Thanksgiving, and they both said no, okay, I asked if they would like to come over and we could put a meal together here, and they said no, what the actual fuck, why? My brother said he had a couple of calls out, but then said if they fell through, he could probably swing by. My mom said she was going to go to bed early this year and watch her Hallmark Channel Christmas movies, instead of spend time with your fucking son.

Fuck both of them, they're both fucking lying. I can tell. I wish they would just be honest with me and tell me they think I'm crazy right to my face, instead of making up really fucking shitty excuses. Whatever, I don't need them anyway. November 30th, 2016, I'm beginning to feel pretty fucking isolated. Nobody really comes to see me anymore. The police seem to have lost complete interest in looking for Julie, even after I found her

bloody shirt. My meetings with Carol are getting fucking weird. The other day she asked me if I thought the bloody footprints on Halloween meant anything. I mean, though they fucking meant something, they meant that kids are pieces of shit and can't just leave someone alone. That's what they meant. Why would she even ask me that, it's none of her fucking business anyway? I started to come and see her because of family issues, not because I wanted to talk about footprints on my fucking driveway, and if she asks me about eating one more time, I'm going to flip the table over in her fucking office. I think I'm

done with her. December 12, 2016. Great, Christmas is right around the corner. I can't wait to not get invited anywhere, not open any gifts, and sit in my living room quietly arguing with myself about whether I should start smoking again or not, but at this point, I mind as well. Julie isn't here and she doesn't appear to be coming back ever again anyway. I never liked the smell of smoke, but Dan did I love that moment right when you exhale the smoke out of your lungs? Not the breathing in or anything else, in fact, I hated everything else about smoking.

It was just the breathing the smoke out that felt so great, the way it made me feel, almost, invincible. You ever feel that way, invincible? I do. When I smoke, I feel fucking invincible. December 24th, 2016, I'm starting to feel weak. I haven't worked out in a couple of months and started smoking again. Maybe I'll even see if I can get my hands on some fucking cocaine.

I haven't talked to my mom or brother in a while. and I'm avoiding Carol whenever I can. She keeps calling me, but I just ignore the calls and turn my phone to vibrate. I came into this world alone and that's the way I'm going to leave it. Fuck it. January 20th, 2017. This notebook idea is fucking stupid. I'm pretty sure it was all Julie's idea anyway, to help keep my thoughts organized.

I'm a fucking idiot for taking advice from someone who kills dogs and runs around in public naked. It's a surprise I've used the notebook this long, considering she's the one who bought it for me. The anniversary of the day she found my texts to Allison is coming up and honestly, I hope I fucking see her. I want her to see what she's done to me, what she's turned my life into. I want her to stare into my eyes and smile the way she fucking smiled at me so I can slap it off her high and mighty face. You hear me, universe. If you're out there, Julie, come and fucking get me. January 27th, 2017. Someone called me this morning, they asked if I could hear that too, just like that,

I answered the phone, and the female voice asked, can you hear that, too, then hung up. I sat staring at my phone for a couple minutes after that, it sounded like my mom. February 4, 2017, I can't sleep anymore. I spend my nights looking into the corners of the room, waiting for something to move or for the shadows to reach out to me. Listening for someone to whisper into my ear and for any movement in the house. Last night I fucking know I heard someone laughing. It almost sounded like me.

I'm deathly afraid I'll see the barefoot man again. God, I do not want to see him again. February 11th, 2017, I'm ready to face anything. I need sleep. I wish Julie, or at this point even the barefoot man, would show their fucking faces to me. I can't take this shit anymore. February 15th, 2017. I can finally hear them too, whatever that woman was talking about, I can hear them too. I'm so excited, I need to call my mom and tell her. I can hear everything. Finally, I can fucking hear them. February 17th, 2017,

it's so fucking cold outside. Why am I always so fucking cold? February 23rd, 2017, 12.17 a.m. Someone is running around downstairs, fucking sprinting back and forth from the kitchen to the stairs. I'm ready to face it, whatever it is. I slowly swing my legs over the side of the bed and the sprinting comes to a halt, then I hear Julie quietly say my name, just once, but with a force behind it. Like she's demanding something of me.

I stammer her name back as my lower lip trembles, then I hear her start to cry. I run to the top of the stairs, ask her where she is, but I hear nothing. The crying has stopped. Complete darkness and an eerie silence now fill the house.

The darkness is beyond what a dark house should be. It's like the whole house is covered in shadows and something is hiding in every nook and cranny. I whisper her name again, then I hear bare feet moving across the kitchen floor and towards the stairs, my lower lip starts trembling again as I struggle to hold back tears. I can't see anything.

I'm paralyzed at the top of the stairs. Then, again, bare feet sprinting towards the stairs at full speed, directly towards me. Tears fall down my face as I keep my eyes locked on the bottom step. And then, nothing. Silence falls over the house once again. February 23, 2017, 1235. I'm sitting in my upstairs hallway, breathing as quietly as I can, listening to every miniscule sound the house has to offer.

Jeff? It's Julie again, but this time she sounds scared. Jeff, help me. Please. I'm scared, someone is down here, F-U-C-K. I can't trust her, there's no way that's actually Julie. I mean, I don't believe in ghosts but W-T-F is that. Jeff, I know you can fucking hear me, help me you bitch.

She's swearing at me again, this can't be her. I place my hands on the ground beneath me, ready to push myself up when I hear her whimper, like she's being hurt by someone. This triggers a whole new emotion in me, anger. I slowly push myself up, anger and absolute fear of the unknown battling to take over my fight or flight response. I move towards the top of the stairs once again, looking down into the absolute, absolute blackness, another whimper. This one is louder than before and more demanding.

I put my foot on the top step when I hear something moved through my bedroom towards the stairs, directly behind me, at a full-on sprint. My head jerks towards the door and there he is, the barefoot man, staring at me. He's clothed everywhere but his feet. I can't tell what he's wearing, but it's form fitting. Jesus Christ, he looks just like me, it's hard to see him but he has his arms out like he's waiting to catch something or tackle someone. He has something in his hand, but it's too dark to tell what it is. It's impossible to see his face, which is completely covered in shadows. Again, I feel my lower lip tremble, please, is all I can get out.

I blink my eyes, and when I open them, tears appear, and the barefoot man is gone. February 23, 2017, 12.50 a.m. to get downstairs. I'm sitting on the top step, waiting for the next round of impossible when I hear Julie, this time very seductively saying my name. Chief, why don't you come down here so I can give you something? She's only talked to me like that a few times before all this shit, and it definitely worked on me then, but I am not responding this time. When I hear her speak again, she sounds closer to the stairs, almost like she moved across the house without me hearing a sound. Jeef, why don't you come play with your wife, show me what a real man you are. Jesus,

I have never had her say that kind of shit before. I do not like this version of Julie. I feel my legs start to shake a bit as I prepare myself to get up and move back into the bedroom if she gets any closer. That's when I see her, she appears at the bottom of the stairs. Just like, fucking poof, out of the darkness. Don't you want me, Jeff? She was still nude from head to toe, but I had to be fucking dreaming. There's no way any of this is real, the barefoot man and Julie just fucking appearing? I must be losing my mind. So what if you are?

Julie asked me, how the hell did she hear that? I didn't say it out loud, did I? My hands are shaking uncontrollably, she's smiling at me, staring unblinkingly, like before. Like she knows my next move before I make it or even think it. Like there's nowhere for me to run and no reason to attempt to hide. I slowly stand up and her smile fades. I walk down the stairs towards her, each step taking several seconds, and I steady my legs to keep from stumbling.

She lowers her head, eyes still locked onto me as if I'm some type of wild fucking animal she's hunting. I blink and she's fucking gone. Just, gone. February 23, 2017, 143 a.m. I'm staying at the bottom of the stairs. I'm waiting for her this time. I can't take this anymore.

If I'm going to die, I'm going to die fighting. I can't see my hands it's so dark in my house. I can't see anything, it's like a total blackout, like my eyes are closed, that's when I hear something upstairs. Slow, deliberately placed footsteps, as if someone is trying to avoid the creeks in the floor, someone who knows where the creeks would be, it has to be Julie. Idk how she got upstairs, but I'm grabbing a fucking knife this time. I slowly walk barefoot across the lower level into the kitchen,

feeling my way past the end table, the couch, the kitchen island, and finally reach the knives in the corner of the kitchen. I grab a steak knife and turn to face the stairs, it's so dark, so fucking impossibly dark. Jeff, don't you want to talk? now she sounds like she's trying to be friends. Why is it every time Julie appears, she's acting differently? Such wild swings of conversation tactics. Jeff, why don't you come and talk to me about those text messages from Allison? WTF. I stood frozen like a statue in the corner of the kitchen,

white knuckling a fucking steak knife. Ready to do what? Fight some spiritual being. I close my eyes and the darkness does not change, it is so, so dark. Then I hear Julie laugh, come on Jeff, why don't you come and face me like a real fucking man would do? The darkness takes over, my eyes shoot open and anger begins to fire through my veins. Instant and blind rage, it takes over my whole body, it takes over every emotion other than anger, my eyes turn into a cold stare, my thoughts disappear as if they themselves fear what is happening. I lose control of my hands, my arms, my legs. I sprint across the kitchen floor barefoot towards the stairway, my feet slapping against the wood floors, and I turn the corner. I shoot up the stairs,

taking them faster than I ever have before. I cross into my bedroom and within three steps, I am plunging the knife into Julie, in and out, blood splattering into my eyes as she slumps to the floor. I can hear Fiona barking. I crouched down over Julie and slit her throat effortlessly, as her eyes stare into mine, pleading for help, like I have betrayed her, fucking bitch. I turn to Fiona, I don't even know where she came from, but she's making too much noise, she barks desperately as I grab her by the ears. I pull her towards me and stab the knife into her throat, dragging it wildly across her fur, fucking mutt. I watch as they both gag on their own blood and saliva, fucking pathetic. You try to attack me?

You fucking dare try to attack me. I smile as I stand up, looking down over their two bodies, fucking weak. You haunt me, tease me, and think I won't react. I am in control. I am in control. I am in complete fucking control. 2.S. asterisk asterisk asterisk asterisk asterisk asterisk at mpd.com. Subject, breakthrough notes from February 2017.

Detective Johnson, as I'm sure you are already aware, yesterday marked the one-year anniversary of patient 143's arrest for his wife's apparent murder and he seemed to have a moment of clairvoyance. His notebook does appear to provide a channel for him to sort through his thoughts and put the pieces of this tragic puzzle together. We are closely monitoring it for any clues that may help you move forward with the case and find Julie's body. While in a therapy session with him yesterday, during which he repeatedly referred to me as, Tony, He told me that he saw his wife and, took care of her. I asked him what he meant, and he said, I ended her. I silently began recording the conversation and I asked to elaborate.

He stated that he was in the kitchen and she was taunting him from their bedroom upstairs, about being caught cheating and his refusal to talk to her about it. He said he was, eventually taken over with rage. He described grabbing a steak knife, running through the kitchen and up the stairs to their bedroom where he stabbed her 37-tive. times and slit her a fangy throat. He told me this without any pause or sign of remorse. I then asked about their dog, Fiona, and he stated that he, couldn't leave any witnesses. The full recording is attached in this email for your records. Although this is a major

breakthrough in solving this case, the patient still seems to think Julie is alive and struggles to grasp with where he is, along with several other issues. He continually refuses to answer questions regarding Yoda, the couple's cat. Patient 143 has stopped eating full meals and has lost a significant amount of weight. He also has attempted to contact Julie's parents on several occasions but seems to be distancing himself from his own immediate family, even after they have attempted to visit him multiple times. I have placed him on suicide watch indefinitely and he is no longer allowed any metal eating utensils with his meals. I believe he may also be showing some side effects from the medications he has been taking here, leading him to hallucinate and suffer from

frequent night terrors. Patient 143 has skipped four meetings with me recently and has started smoking again. His smoking is being closely monitored and severely limited, as he seems to be replacing food with smoking cigarettes and drinking large amounts of coffee with sugar. We still have a lot of work to do with patient 143 and there are still many questions to be answered to help you close Julie's case, primarily, why it happened. As you previously mentioned, evidence points to the murder scene in the bedroom being expertly cleaned. Images of the blood-covered shirt you discovered in the bottom of the laundry hamper, as well as the pictures of the crime scene you released to us, have been shown to the patient during therapy several times. He does not acknowledge

them in any form, and still shows no emotion or recognition. The patient's notebook also confirms his attempt to wash away bloody footprints from the driveway, which your crime scene investigators recently discovered. Lastly, I have asked multiple times and in various ways, for the patient to disclose the whereabouts of Julie's remains, but patient 143 simply looks me in the eyes, smiles and responds, nothing happened, nothing happened. I will update you with further information when available. Dr. Carol Allison Rose, SciD. L.P.

Clinical Director of Mental Health, Hennepin County Correctional Services.